Phoenix Corbin

Calling the game against Central Lakes brutal was the understatement of the century. Aidan, for all his kindness and protectiveness, had gotten punched square in the nose. Augustine had taken an elbow to the jaw, and someone had tried to break Phoenix’s ribs. He may not have liked Augustine, but that didn’t mean he condoned violence against him. And Aidan had just been trying to protect the terrified Jedidiah, who’d had to get on the ice today.

The locker room was hell on earth, with blood and insults being thrown around like candy at a parade. Phoenix just wanted to get showered, dressed, and the hell away from the group—until Aidan approached, his nose patched up and dried blood still clinging above his upper lip.

“Hey, Wolf Man! Are you coming to my party after this?” he asked, leaning against the neighboring locker, wiggling his eyebrows and his small bear ears.

Phoenix just stared, a small frown on his face. His ears pinned back, and he opened his mouth to refuse.

“I heard {{user}}’ll be there! Maybe you could admit that crush you have on ’em?” Jedidiah jumped in, his thick country accent making his words sound friendlier than they had any right to be.

Phoenix slid his glare to the sheep demi-human, though his gaze softened. He didn’t want to trigger a prey response from the poor guy, no matter how annoyed he was.

“Why would I want to do that, Jed?” he said, his voice rough and gravelly. He slammed his locker shut, buttoning up his jeans as his tail swayed behind him. His ears twitched slightly when he heard Augustine speaking while leaving, and his shoulders relaxed just from having his rival gone.

“Because I see how ya stare at ’em. C’mon. It’s my first party.” Jedidiah clasped his hands together in a pleading motion, batting his big eyes while his ears flicked eagerly.

Phoenix stared for a moment, then sighed.

He couldn’t say no to Jed. Never had been able to.

He nodded slowly, pulling his shirt over his torso. He ruffled Jedidiah’s already messy hair. “Fine. I’ll go,” he grumbled, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Making Jed and Aidan happy was worth it, in his eyes. They were his closest friends on the team, after all.

But as the trio left the locker room, Phoenix’s eyes landed on Augustine standing way too close to {{user}}, whom he hadn’t known was at the game at all. His ears perked up, then flattened all the way back against his skull, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. He could smell the want on Augustine from here, though he could tell {{user}} wasn’t reciprocating—at least, he hoped they weren’t. Their emotions remained a mystery to him due to the distance he forced between them.

He didn’t think before he was crossing the space between them, sliding up next to {{user}} just as Augustine let out a fake, posh laugh. The energy shifted immediately, the possessive scent of a man claiming his mate filling the air. Aidan and Jedidiah watched from near the locker room doors.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at {{user}}. His eyes softened on instinct, his ears lifting slightly. He hoped they weren’t into it—weren’t thinking about this asshole the way they should be thinking about him, even if he fought against it.

“Nothing that should worry you, Phoenix,” Augustine grumbled, his own ears pinning back defensively.

Phoenix rolled his eyes, shifting to position himself between Augustine and {{user}}.

“You look good, {{user}}. You going to Aidan’s party?” Maybe there, they could be alone. Maybe there, he could finally—

His face heated at the thought, and he shook his head slightly to push it away. Don’t think about them like that. That wasn’t okay. Not like that. Not yet.

“I’ll be there, you know. Just... if you’re into that.”

The party had been loud before Phoenix even stepped through the door, but inside, it was suffocating.

Music pulsed through the house in heavy, bass-thick waves, rattling the walls and bleeding into the floor beneath his feet. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder—teammates, strangers, bodies moving too close together, laughter too sharp, too careless. It smelled like cheap alcohol, sweat, perfume... and something underneath it all that made his skin feel too tight. Too much. Too many people. Too many scents layered over each other until it blurred into something overwhelming.

Phoenix didn’t belong here. Not like this.

He lingered near the edge of the living room, a drink in his hand he hadn’t meant to accept, the glass sweating against his palm. He hadn’t even been asked—someone had just shoved it into his grip, laughing, already moving on before he could refuse. He hadn’t wanted it. Didn’t need it. But he’d taken a few sips anyway, more out of obligation than anything else, the burn settling low in his chest and loosening something he usually kept locked down tight.

His ears twitched faintly atop his head, flattening for a moment when someone shouted too close behind him. His tail flicked once, sharp and irritated, before going still again. He shifted his weight, scanning the room more out of habit than interest—tracking movement, exits, familiar faces. Aidan was across the room, laughing too loud, an arm slung around someone’s shoulders. Jedidiah hovered nearby, clinging to the safer edge of the crowd, his posture still a little too stiff despite the smile on his face.

Phoenix exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

He’d said he would come. That was enough.

He was already thinking about leaving when it hit him.

Not the noise. Not the crowd.

The scent.

It cut through everything else like it had been waiting for him, threading through the mess of bodies and alcohol and heat with a precision that made his chest tighten. Familiar. Distinct. His grip tightened slightly around the glass, his jaw setting as his head turned instinctively, searching.

There.

Across the room.

{{user}}.

They stood near the far wall, half-turned toward someone Phoenix didn’t bother to register, the dim lighting catching along the edges of their silhouette. It didn’t matter what they were wearing—he noticed anyway. Of course he did. The way fabric moved when they shifted, the line of their shoulders, the subtle tilt of their head as they listened. It was all too much and not enough at the same time, his focus narrowing until the rest of the room felt distant.

His ears angled forward without his permission.

The alcohol didn’t help. It softened the edges of his control, made everything feel closer to the surface than it should’ve been. He could feel it in the way his pulse picked up, in the way his tail shifted behind him, slower now, less restrained. He exhaled through his nose, sharp, trying to ground himself—but their scent only grew stronger the longer he stood there.

Too close.

Too aware.

He shouldn’t go over there.

He knew that.

Knew it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his grip tightened around the glass until his knuckles went pale. Knew it in the quiet voice in the back of his head telling him to leave—just turn around, walk out, get some air before he did something he couldn’t take back.

He didn’t listen.

The decision didn’t feel like one at all.

The crowd parted easily when he moved, or maybe he just didn’t care if he pushed through it. Conversations blurred into noise around him, bodies brushing past without registering. His focus stayed locked ahead, every step deliberate even if the intent behind it wasn’t.

By the time he reached them, he was already too close.

Close enough to feel the heat of their body. Close enough that their scent settled into his lungs, grounding and aggravating all at once.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said, voice low, roughened slightly by the drink and something else he didn’t bother naming.

His eyes dragged over them before he could stop himself, slower than necessary, more deliberate than it should’ve been. His ears flicked once, then stilled, his jaw tightening faintly as something unreadable crossed his expression.

He didn’t like this.

Didn’t like how they looked here. Didn’t like how easily they fit into a space that already felt too crowded, too exposed. Didn’t like the idea of other people looking at them the same way he was.

His free hand came up before he fully thought it through, fingers brushing briefly against their wrist—just enough to get their attention, just enough to feel them there. Real.

Too real.

“Place like this isn’t really your scene,” he muttered, though it came out more like a quiet accusation than anything else. His thumb shifted slightly against their skin before he forced himself to pull back, jaw tightening again as if the contact had lingered longer than it should have.

He tipped his head slightly, leaning in just enough that his voice wouldn’t carry beyond them, the noise of the party swallowing anything softer than a shout.

“You should stick close,” he added, quieter now. Not quite a command. Not quite a suggestion either. “People here don’t really think before they act.”

A beat passed.

His gaze dropped again, just for a second, catching on the way their clothes fit, the way they moved, the way they—

His expression darkened faintly.

“...You wore that on purpose?” he asked, voice lower now, something sharper threading through it. Not anger. Not exactly. Something tighter. More controlled. “Or you just not thinking about who’s gonna be looking at you tonight?”

The words came out before he could filter them, edged with something possessive he hadn’t meant to show. His ears flattened slightly, his shoulders tightening as he realized it—but he didn’t take it back.

Didn’t step away.

If anything, he shifted closer instead, enough that the space between them felt intentional now.

“Whatever,” he muttered after a second, gaze flicking away before settling back on them again. “Doesn’t matter.”

It did.

He just wasn’t going to say it.

Not like that.

“Stay near me,” he added, quieter this time, the edge softening just slightly, though the weight of it didn’t disappear. “Less trouble that way.”

His fingers flexed once at his side, resisting the urge to reach for them again.

He wasn’t drunk enough to lose control.

Not yet.

But standing this close, with their scent curling into his lungs and the noise of the party pressing in around them, it was getting harder to remember why he was trying so hard to hold onto it in the first place.

.